Now that they were away from the debauchery of the rest of the establishment, it really wasn’t so bad. Copper bowls in the corner of the chamber burned with peat, keeping the room nice and warm as they listened to the dulcet tones of the harp. There was a variety of ale and they sampled each one, enjoying the camaraderie in a peaceful moment. Times like this were rare for fighting men such as them, moments when their entire existence didn’t revolve around a life or death struggle.
But such was the way of their lives.
In fact, Andreas was in town because his grandfather had sent him to deliver a missive to the king. William de Wolfe was the Earl of Warenton and he, his sons, and his allies essentially controlled England’s border with Scotland from one end to the other. There was always something happening with the Scots and Andreas had brought a report to the king of the last several months, including some odd happenings between Clan Maxwell and Clan Johnstone. Clans that had been at each other’s throats for decades were now becoming even more belligerent, which concerned William.
A clan war was something they all wanted to avoid.
In fact, each man had their own reasons for being in London. Andreas had come to deliver missives, Theodis had come to procure ingredients from the apothecary, while Tor and William had come purely on business for their father. It seemed that their father wanted to reinforce his ranks at his castle in Cumbria and having picked through the local population of men, he was hoping to find more interested parties in a bigger city.
Each man with a different directive. But each man now enjoying the adventure of a new experience.
After about an hour of steady drinking, however, Andreas was starting to feel his exhaustion. All of this on top of the time they had spent in The Pox, so they had already had quite a full evening. With his business for his grandfather concluded in London, Andreas was thinking of the journey home and how long that would take. It was July and the weather had been good, so their journey from Northumberland to London had taken them somewhere around eighteen days. They had been in London for about two weeks and they knew that it was imperative that they head home soon because once September rolled around, the rains would come and they didn’t want to get caught in the autumn rainy season.
As Andreas finished off a hard apple cider with quite a kick, he thought that this should be the last drink of the night. With all of the food and drink, and his bout with the purge, he had to admit that he wasn’t feeling all that great. They were staying with his uncle, Edward de Wolfe, a diplomat for King Edward, a highly positioned advisor who had a home outside of London but also a townhome, Lothbury, that was in a more tony part of the city.
Edward and his wife, Cassiopeia, were uncle and aunt to Andreas, William and Tor, but not in the usual way – Edward was their fathers’ brother and Cassiopeia was their mothers’ youngest sister, so they were related to them from both sides of the family. Andreas didn’t think Uncle Edward would appreciate them staggering back home at dawn and was about to comment on such a thing when a frantic woman suddenly blew into the chamber.
Being that they were trained to handle startling situations in a calm and rational manner, the four of them simply looked at the woman who rushed in. The first thing they looked for was weapons; she wasn’t carrying any. But she was gasping as if terrified. She seemed in a panic. The next thing they realized, she was running into what she evidently thought was a doorway, only it was a small and secluded alcove.
They all heard a loud thump.
The woman didn’t emerge.
Curious, and perhaps slightly concerned, Andreas set his ale cup to the table and stood up, going to the partially concealed alcove and peering inside. It was dark except for the ambient light from the larger chamber, but he could see something trembling in the corner. Looking closer, he could see something quivering beneath a silk coverlet.
He stepped into the alcove.
“My lady?” he said. “Do you require assistance?”
It took a moment, but she pulled the coverlet off her head, gazing up at him with a mask-free face. Andreas had understood that to be forbidden. Everyone was to cover his or her face because it kept the element of mystery and fantasy. But the woman had yanked hers off and tears were streaming down her face.
It was a very pretty face.
“I just want to leave,” she whispered tightly. “I cannot seem to find a way out and a man grabbed me and tried… he tried to kiss me, and I know that sort of thing is allowed here without repercussion, but I do not want to be kissed. I only want to leave. Can you please tell me the way out?”
It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was hysterical. Andreas could have done the easy thing at that moment and simply walked away, but he couldn’t seem to do it. He had sisters, after all, and a stepmother he loved. He had a grandmother he adored and a variety of aunts and female cousins. If one of them was in distress and he wasn’t around to help, he would hope that someone would be kind enough to lend a hand.
“I am not entirely sure how to get out of this place,” he said. “I have never been here before. Is it your first time, too?”
She nodded, fear reflecting in her eyes. “My cousins brought me here,” she said. “I do not even know where they are. They disappeared and left me… alone.”
“Then you have no escort?”
“I never did,” she said. “My cousins demanded that I accompany them here, so we left the house after their mother went to sleep.”
“Then no one knows you have come?”
“Nay,” she said, guilty and confused. “My cousins said this would be a place of feasting and fun, but… I find it vile. I just want to go home.”
She sounded so forlorn. Andreas could see that perhaps the young woman had gotten more than she’d bargained for when her cousins had forced her to come to this unusual and decadent place. The woman’s cousins had told her of feasting and fun, and she’d found debauchery and excess. Being a chivalrous man, he knew he had to do something to help her.
He held up a hand, to beg patience.
“Do not fret,” he said. “I will return shortly. Will you stay?”
She wasn’t going anywhere, curled up against the wall with a silk coverlet over her. But she didn’t respond, perhaps too frightened to, and Andreas ducked out of the alcove, looking for the servant with the drinks. He caught sight of her over near one of the copper braziers and he took two cups off her tray.
He returned to the alcove.
“Here,” he said. “Drink this. It will make you feel better.”
He was extending one of the cups to her, but she stared at it like she had no idea what to do with it. “What… what is it?”
“Ale,” Andreas said. “It has fruit in it. It’s quite good. It will help calm you.”
She stared at the cup a moment longer before lowering the silk coverlet and hesitantly claiming the drink. Andreas watched as she gulped it, thirstily, draining nearly half the cup.
She licked her lips.
“It is good,” she agreed quietly. Then, her gaze moved to Andreas, perhaps looking him over a little. “You are very kind to bring this to me.”
He smiled faintly. “It was no trouble,” he said. “Frankly, I am grateful for the diversion. I don’t think I like this place very much, either.”
She licked her lips again and took another drink. “Then why are you here?”
He threw a thumb over his shoulder. “Because my friend brought us.”
“Us?”
He nodded. “My cousins and me,” he said. “The four of us are in London on business and my friend, who has been here before, thought it would be a great adventure for us.”
He saw her take a deep, fortifying breath before taking another drink of the ale. “I would agree that it is an adventure,” she said after a moment. “But not a great one. It is one I could have done without.”
A smile flickered across his lips. “I am coming to think that as well,” he said. “I would never begrudge a man for
living out his fantasies, but a place like this… my grandmother will murder me and bury the body if I tell her I visited such a place.”
She lifted her eyebrow as if in full agreement and Andreas found himself studying her face. She was blonde, with delicately arched brows and the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. They tilted up at the ends, like the eyes of a cat. She had a pert nose and lips that seemed rather lush. Aye, she was more than pretty.
She was beautiful.
“If you truly feel as hostile towards this place as I do, then you shall leave here and forget you ever visited,” she said, gulping more ale. “I intend to leave and never look back no matter what my cousins say. And I shall never let them bring me here again.”
Andreas was watching her closely, seeing that she had calmed with quiet conversation and the ale. At least she was no longer panicking.
“They like this place, do they?” he asked.
“They do,” she said. Then, she snorted ironically. “They woke me from a dead sleep for this. I should have stayed in bed.”
She said it with great regret and he grinned. “And I wish I was in mine,” he said. “This was interesting for the first few minutes, but no longer. Will you accompany me, my lady?”
She looked at him suspiciously, appraising him again with those glittering eyes. “Forgive me, my lord, but given the nature of this place, I must ask where I am to accompany you.”
“Out,” he said flatly. “I shall take you home.”
“Mine or yours?”
He chuckled. “Yours, of course,” he said. “My lady, I realize that in a place like this, you should probably suspect the worst from everyone you meet, but I assure you that my intentions are purely chivalrous. You seem distressed and I am offering my services to take you home safely.”
He could see that she was considering it. But after a moment, she shook her head. “I am afraid that I cannot,” she said. “You are a stranger. I do not know you. And I am not in the habit of entrusting my safety to strangers.”
He nodded. “Fair enough,” he said. “I do not blame you, of course, but I am going to leave nonetheless. If you would like to follow me out, you are welcome to do so. I will not trouble you further.”
Her focus lingered on him a moment before lowering her eyes and draining the rest of her ale. The alcohol was settling in her veins, taking away the sheer terror she had been feeling so that she was able to think more clearly.
She eyed the enormous man crouched a few feet away.
“I do not mean to sound ungrateful,” she said. “And I do not mean to impugn your honor, but it would be foolish of me to trust someone I do not know.”
“Very true.”
“And we are not supposed to know anything about one another, so I cannot even ask you who you are.”
“I am a knight.”
She looked at his mail, his tunic. He was wearing a green tunic with a black dog’s head. She pointed at it.
“I can see that,” she said. “It looks familiar but, then again, there are probably fifty such standards around England with a dog’s head on it.”
“Not like this one,” he assured her quietly. “This one is unique. And it is not a dog.”
“What is it?”
“A wolf.”
“Is it your family crest? Or your liege’s standard?”
“My family crest.”
She pondered that for a moment. “We are not supposed to ask for names, but do you have something you are called?” She reached over and picked up the mask she’d torn off her face. “I am to tell everyone that my name is Kitten.”
She put the mask back over her face, showing him that it was a cat’s face. He smiled. “It suits you,” he said. “I suppose you can call me Wolf.”
His mask was a dog’s face, elaborate and painted. “Wolf,” she repeated. “I would like to thank you again for bringing me the drink. You did not have to bother with me, but you did. I feel better now.”
“Would you like more?”
She shook her head. “I simply want to leave, if that is agreeable,” she said. “I will follow you when you are ready to go.”
“I am ready.”
She sounded stronger now, in control of herself. He stood up from his crouch as she tied on her mask before tossing aside the coverlet. She stood up, stiffly and perhaps a bit unsteadily, revealing herself in a beautiful red silk that made her breasts appear quite large. Andreas would have had to have been a blind man not to notice that.
In fact, along with her beautiful face, he’d never seen a finer woman. A woman like that finding her way home, alone? Not bloody likely. He couldn’t just help her find her way out of this place only to leave her alone on the dangerous and dark London streets. He suspected he was going to follow her home, which wouldn’t be well met if she saw him. He could just tell by looking at her.
In fact, he couldn’t believe that she was without a man, period.
A woman like that was surely spoken for.
With those thoughts on his mind, he headed out of the alcove. As he stepped out, Theodis called to him.
“Where are you going?” he demanded. “Our evening is not over yet.”
Andreas paused. “It is for me,” he said, glancing at the woman as she emerged behind him. “I will see you at Lothbury.”
Theodis was set to argue with him until he took a good look at the woman. She was stunning. That screaming mass of hair and silk that he’d seen blow by was actually something quite spectacular and he suspected that Andreas had found someone to keep company with, so he didn’t argue with him. Gentle Andreas, who could have any woman he wanted with his comely looks and kind demeanor. Theodis simply waved at him, as did William and Tor. All of them waving at a man who was probably one of the most discriminating men in England when it came to women.
Andreas wasn’t a hound when it came to the fairer sex.
In fact, he was a paradox.
Big and handsome, he was hell on the battlefield but sweet and gentle when it came to women. He always had been. But there was something of a problem with him – Andreas was rather old to have never been married at thirty years and seven, but it wasn’t for the lack of his family trying. They’d tried too many times to count, but he had never found a woman he would consider spending his life with.
Unfortunately for him, he had a legacy to uphold.
Andreas was the oldest son of Troy de Wolfe, who would have been the eldest son of The Earl of Warenton had it not been for his twin being born a few minutes before he was. But Troy was a powerful warlord in his own right and had multiple properties and allies, including a great alliance with Clan Kerr because he had married a chief’s daughter as his second wife.
As Troy’s eldest son and heir, Andreas would wield a great deal of power upon the death of his father. He would have property in both England and Scotland in addition to inheriting his father’s title of Lord Braemoor. Much was expected of Andreas because he was one of the oldest male de Wolfe grandchildren and that included an advantageous marriage.
But Andreas had other ideas.
His mother had died when he had been a youth, drowned in an accident that also took the lives of his younger sisters. Andreas had been away fostering at the time and the news had been devastating because he had been close to his mother, who had been quite young when she had given birth to him. When he had been a small child, she had been more like a sister and a playmate than his mother. They had spent an inordinate amount of time together and he had been an only child until he was nine years of age.
That meant that he and his mother had been very close.
Sometimes, he still talked about her. His mother had been a small woman, with blonde hair and big, blue eyes that she had passed down to her son. She had been lighthearted and witty, and sometimes Andreas said that he could still hear her silly giggle. She’d had a way of giggling that had made anyone who heard it want to giggle right along with her. Andreas could remember his father putting his hand over his
mother’s mouth when that giggle grew out of control, but it had never been mean-spirited. Her death, and the deaths of his two younger siblings, had left Andreas as the remaining child of a man who was grieving too deeply to function.
It had been a difficult time for them both.
Those in the family thought that it was perhaps his mother’s death that prevented Andreas from marrying. The last woman he had been close to and had loved unconditionally had died, and her death had left a son who had incorporated that loss into the very fiber of his existence. Once Troy came to grips with the loss of Helene, he tried to speak with his son about it, but Andreas didn’t want to discuss it. He lived with that loss as part of him and he wasn’t willing to deal with it. When he grew older, it was still part of him, and Andreas felt no sense of urgency to take a wife. To be close to a woman ever again.
Some wondered if he ever would.
Which is why this moment was of particular interest to William and Tor and Theodis. Andreas had apparently found a woman to keep company with, as shocking as it was, so they were more than happy to let Andreas find his evening’s entertainment elsewhere. They didn’t want to get in his way.
As Andreas headed out of the chamber with a luscious blonde trailing behind him, they looked at each other and smiled. Perhaps Troy de Wolfe would finally get that wedding he’d been hoping for, with Andreas finding a bride, in all places, at a guild called Gomorrah.
Or perhaps it would be another dead end.
Knowing Andreas, the latter was more than likely.
CHAPTER FIVE
He was a very big man.
Maybe not the tallest, for Gavriella had seen taller, but the sheer breadth of his body and arms was simply solid and big. And his hands, embraced by enormous leather gloves, were the size of her head when contracted into a fist.
WolfeBlade: de Wolfe Pack Generations Page 8